


Sakura

by carzla



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carzla/pseuds/carzla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He slashed at the trees, fury, frustrations and pain all poured out into his actions. A year passed, he saw the recovery. The next year, they started to speak to him. Three years later, the message fell in to place. Sakuras were always his flower. It had always been that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sakura

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005, i.e. a long time ago. Also written before I figured out that Byakuya would've already known Senbonzakura's name before meeting Hisana/before Hisana's death.

It hurt. It really did. How could a death cause so much sorrow? Of course, that was when he did not add the fact that the one dead was the one he loved deeply. More than he ever had. He had likened love to fire once, some years ago. He was still right in that analogy: Fire burned. And when it did, it hurt – greatly.

Everybody thought he had taken her death well. He showed nothing that belied it. But how often had he shown his true feelings on his features? It was close to zero. But there was just so much one could hide before breaking point. He _couldn’t_ break in front of anyone.

He had to be alone.

* * *

Now, standing in the forest far away from the many villages of Rukongai, every being was mocking him. The birds sang blissfully in pairs, the crickets strummed a carefree tune in search of their mates… and even the sakura trees were pink with the joy of young love.

Why was everything in such a _nauseating_ cheer?

He had to change this disgusting landscape. Unsheathing his zanpakutou, he broke into a run towards the grove of cherry blossoms. With an anguished howl, he unleashed his frustrations, his fury and his pain in a hail of precise strokes.

Minutes later, he stood, chest heaving, amidst flying sakura petals. He eyed his handiwork. The trees, once full of life, were now bare of color other than a muddy brown. The ground was littered with broken twigs and severed branches. Lastly, the deep gashes on the trunks mirrored his heart. Even if the gashes healed, they would leave scars. He let out a bitter, hollow laugh. It echoed in the silent woods, but nobody could hear him.

He never thought that cherry blossoms were his type.

* * *

A year later, he admired the resilience of the once-butchered trees. They had re-grown, but not in their former glory.

The next year, he saw the soft buds of pink blooms. They spoke, in their quaint little ways, to him of an understanding.

Three years later, he finally understood.

“Scatter, Senbonzakura.”


End file.
